OneShot Haven
by Nomia
Summary: A one-stop spot for my collection of one-shots. They are becoming quite numerous, and to have so many stories authored before lumping them together in one place was beginning to make me look like a crazed and obsessed nut.
1. Fairytales and Dust Bunnies

Cindy was quite content to spend her Sunday afternoon absorbed in a few good books. Few of her numerous friends, family members, and acquaintances could understand why she would squander away such precious moments on such a foolish activity week after week, but she didn't care – or bother to take the time to explain. She didn't lend an ear to the hustle and bustle of the 21st century, nor did she let it interlude her moment of peace. The pressures of life would wait until Monday morning, where they could once again poke and prod at all the work-goers, chuckling behind their backs in mockery.

Cindy would have none of this sinister chuckling at her, however, so she side-stepped society every once in a while, allowing herself to become lost in some fantasy world where life was happy, made sense, and had a heavy dose of adventure. (Not the she hadn't had her fair cut of the latter, but that was beside the point.) Books were her escape, and with a virtually endless supply she could reconcile herself for years on end with stories of valiant heroes and courageous figures that struggled tirelessly through perilous dangers, eminent death, and were still able to come through with perfectly applied make-up and neatly-pressed cloths.

This certain Sunday was a rainy one, and Cindy loved it. She was sitting cross-legged in a cozy corner of the sofa, sandwiched between several well-placed cushions. The glass in the window behind her was cool from the seasonally chilly rain, creating a refreshing draft. The rhythmic droplets tinkling a tuneless pattern on her roof only added to the ambience. She was currently one-hundred and eighty-two pages into a particularly delicious plot, so completely engrossed by it that it wasn't until page 214 that she realized she was being observed. Her watcher made his presence obvious by flinging his lanky form onto the sofa, nuzzling his head under Cindy's arm and onto her lap.

Rather peeved at being interrupted during the most climatic point, Cindy lifted the book up to glare at her husband and snapped, "What?"

"You're quite grumpy today," Jimmy observed aloud, most likely oblivious to the fact it had been his abrupt entrance that set her into a cranky mood. He traced light circles on her stomach with a finger for a moment before dropping his arm as though gravity had suddenly intensified, sighed heavily, and declared, "I'm bored."

"Obviously, since you have come to spoil the atmospherically-perfect pinnacle of my book," Cindy groused, snapping her book shut, the desire to continue on to the resolution all but evaporated. "Why do you smell like zirconium?"

Jimmy looked down at the lab coat he was still decked out in and plucked at it, releasing another waft of the burnt chemical. "I was in the lab, attempting to create a larger-scale form of my hypercube that would allow me to simulate nuclear activity, and I forgot to test the reactor support structures for hafnium. The chemical vicissitudes were irregular, and – well, you know the rest." He sat up, scooting up next to Cindy and showing her the mildly burned fingers he sported.

"Aside from the fact that this doesn't surprise me in the slightest," Cindy said, rolling her eyes as she reached behind her to grab the small, potted aloe plant in the window sill, (the experience of marriage to James Isaac Neutron, the stupidest genius on the face of the earth, taught her to keep such thing handy,) "why wouldn't that qualify for a place on the list of 'Not-boring Things To Do'?"

Jimmy shrugged, accepting the broken-off aloe leaf from Cindy and picking away the tough, outer skin to reveal the gooey center. He wrinkled his nose at it and set it back in the pot Cindy was replacing, apparently preferring minor burns to a smelly, goop-glove. (Cindy made a scathing noise, wondering why she had bothered to try to help him in the first place.) He looked over at her, putting on a mask of self-pity and melancholy. He added a theatric tone of pain as he said, "There was no pretty girl to kiss…"

Cindy snorted, not at all flattered. After 17 years-worth of mess-ups, fighting, waiting for him to mature, waiting for him to even _notice_ her, waiting for him to _say_ something, the procrastinating, big-headed – well… exasperation won over her emotions, if anything.

"Get a better line, Nerd-tron."

As if to prove his worth and true intentions, he leapt from the squashy sofa and dropped to one knee before her, grabbing one of her hands in his own, crying dramatically, "By love! Who first did prompt me to inquire – "

"Oh, shut up, show-off!" Cindy snarled, ripping her hand free and shoving him in the chest, but grinning nonetheless. Jimmy fell backwards, perhaps continuing on with his air of theatrics – or perhaps she really pushed him that hard – and lay on the floor, his blue eyes fixed abjectly on the ceiling above.

"I can never please you," he said, remaining virtually motionless.

"I wouldn't say 'never'," Cindy mused idly, searching for her page and ignoring the looks of mock hurt her husband threw her from his place on the floor. "Sometimes you get lucky and do something right."

"I thank you for your kind words of support, m'lady," Jimmy muttered. Cindy was almost positive this had accompanied an eye-roll, but she had found her place and had once again let herself slip into the world of suspenseful fiction. She gave an inarticulate mumble, jade eyes not stopping their rapid page-crossing.

Jimmy fell silent, but it was only a few paragraphs later that he broke the serenity once more. "How do you think Libby and Sheen ever got together?" he asked. "They're so… Libby and Sheen. Two totally different personalities."

Cindy, still too detached from reality to notice how random the question really was, muttered, "Mm – well, it's just about as odd as you and I, isn't it?"

"I guess so," he said slowly. "I never really thought it would stick with them, though. I figured there were simply lingering effects of 976/J… hm, _c'est la vie._" He was silent for a short while more before he gave a small laugh. "Do you remember their reception?"

"How could I not?" Cindy retorted, turning the page and continuing along with her fictional companion to the end of the cathedral hallway. "Only Carl could take out an entire wedding cake doing the mambo."

Jimmy laughed again. "Libby was so mad; I never thought I would see her stop dancing in the middle of a good song. She was already rather peeved at the name-less _some_one who requested the Ultra-Lord theme song to be played, though. You know, I do wonder what Joyce is going to turn out like…"

Cindy faltered to a stop mid-paragraph, bewildered.

"Huh?"

She had only been listening with a partial ear. It took her several moments to realize Jimmy was speaking of the Estevez daughter.

"Yeah, it'll be weird, but – where is all this coming from?" She looked up from her entrancing book, surprised to see her husband still lying on the floor, now with the addition of a dusty book propped open on his chest. Cindy recognized it at once.

"Where did you _find_ that!" she exclaimed, clambering off the couch and to Jimmy's side. "I've been looking for it for _ages_…"

Jimmy gestured toward the small gap between the couch bottom and the carpeted floor where nothing but a few dust bunnies, a broken pencil, a lone sock, and one or two of Joyce's crayons, lost during a past visit she had made with her parents, lay lonely and forgotten. "A rather strange place for a photo album, if you ask me…"

"Well, of _course_ it is," Cindy snapped, snatching it away from him and flipping through its pages, releasing a small cloud of fine dust particles. "I never put it there intentionally. It must have fallen a while back."

She opened the thick, soft-leather book to one of its final pages. It bore the picture of little Joyce that had invoked the comment from Jimmy. It was a few years old – the now six-year-old must have been only three in the picture. Her fine, black hair was pulled into two equal sections on either side of her head; her dark-skinned face was alight with mischief.

Cindy flipped a few pages backwards, replacing the candid shot of giggling Joyce pulling on one pigtail with one of Sheen and Libby dancing at their wedding reception. Judging by the slightly irate look on Libby's face, Jimmy collapsed from laughter in the background, and the lack of a cake on the display table, Carl had already taken his fateful stumble. Turning back a few more pages, she watched in still-time the memorable dance once more.

"It's rather funny now that it's over," Cindy admitted, grinning broadly. "And now that Libby's not here to skin us alive for mentioning it."

Jimmy sat up and rested his chin on Cindy's shoulder, motioning for her to continue on with the reverse trip down memory lane. She did so, freeing more dust from the enslaving pages as well as some laughs and smiles. Libby trying on wedding dresses; Jimmy and Sheen playing basketball in a driveway while Carl stood on the sidelines, looking nervous; Carl in his zoo-keeper uniform, flashing an ecstatic grin at the camera; Libby and Sheen at the park, kissing; all five of them outside Retroville just after graduation; Cindy and Libby blowing a kiss toward the photographer. Cindy stopped on the very first page of the book.

It was her favorite picture. They were at Retroland, a week before high school graduation, cramming in a few final rides on "Bat Outta Heck", and standing just beyond a picnic table where the whole gang had been waiting for Carl's motion-sickness medication to kick in. It was late in the day and, though enjoying herself entirely, Cindy was tired from the amount of walking they had done. Jimmy was giving her a piggy-back ride, his arms tucked underneath the back of her knees. Cindy had wrapped her arms loosely around Jimmy's shoulders and tilted her head to look at him. Although she had been unable to see it as she kissed his cheek, the picture revealed that Jimmy's blue eyes had been turned toward her, full of adoration, a lopsided grin spread across his face.

A happy sigh came unbidden to Cindy's lips. "Do you think it's still… oh, I don't know – as _fairytale-like_ as it was back then?"

Jimmy snickered and slid an arm around her waist. "I don't know what magical land of wonder it is you are referring to, but our relationship was _never_ 'fairytale-like'. Still isn't, in fact."

Cindy nodded, wiping a film of dust from the page she was continuing to stare happily down on. "It would be a rather disturbing fairytale, wouldn't it? Never before has a Prince Charming taken so long to sweep the Fair Princess off her feet."

"Yeah, well, it wouldn't have been such a tedious process had the Fair and Delicate Damsel not made it so intimidating with her constant threats, arguments, and fierce, physical reprimands when anything remotely related to a relationship was brought within fourteen miles of the theoretical playing field!" Jimmy snapped, lifting his chin off Cindy's shoulder to glare at her.

Cindy only giggled and leaned back into the arm that was still wrapped around her midsection, still fondling the open page of her photo album. "This will be one of the few times I will say this, so make a note: you are absolutely, one hundred percent right. But think of it as the ultimate test to your feelings; after six years of endurance, you really knew you liked me."

Jimmy gave a cross between a sigh and a morose chuckle, leaning his cheek on the top of her head. "Cindy, only deep adoration and undying love could withstand the years' worth of berating degradations you threw out. Don't sell yourself short with 'like'."

Cindy chose to take this as a compliment – even if a very contorted one – and snuggled deeper into Jimmy's chest. She deeply considered herself to have found her own twisted form of "happily ever after", daily life-threatening situations and all. (It wouldn't be the same without them, or the thousands upon thousands of arguments she and Jimmy had.)

She stopped fingering the necklace her photo-self was wearing and transferred her hand to the real thing, running her slender fingers down the fine silver chain until they came to the desired object that rested just below her collar bone: the smooth pearl Jimmy had given her nearly sixteen years ago. She had rarely taken it off since then.

"You're so silly." Jimmy took the pearl from her hands and held it in the palm of his own. "I can't believe you still have this!"

Cindy snorted. "First of all…'silly'? Geeze, Nerd-tron, what else did your most recent explosion affect?" She pulled her head away, jerking the chain with her and pulling its pendant from Jimmy's open hand. It settled comfortably back against the smooth skin of her chest. "And it's not like it's _completely_ sentimental; I'm not about to find the nearest person on the street and give them a perfect pearl!"

She could feel Jimmy smile against her jawbone as he kissed her. "Whatever you say, Cindy."

"Whatever I say -- I'm glad it's only taken you five years of marriage to reach that sentiment," Cindy retorted, scowling at him good-naturedly. "Let's see how long you can keep it up."

She grinned when Jimmy gave a scathing "tach!" in the back of his throat.

Life certainly wasn't a textbook experience, but was never short of excitement. Prince Charming and Lady Fair unable to go 36 hours without squabbling over the most insignificant of things, giant civilization-eating chickens, sinister eggs, love potions, body transversals, crash-landings on uncharted islands, robotic canines, and intergalactic kidnappings.

A strange "happily ever after" indeed.


	2. Jolly Ranchers

It was only fourteen hours into his visit of California upon an invitation to attend the Academy Awards, but Jimmy was already feeling extreme resentment and loathing toward the Golden State. The emptily promised glitz and glamour on the evening of the highly-speculated event had been substituted with highly-strung tempers, explosive arguments set off by snappish comments, and an uncomfortably chilly cloud-cover.

For the past several hours of this disappointing visit, Jimmy had been rushing throughout the uppermost level of the hotel suite that had been rented out for use during the short visit he and the rest of the childhood gang were making. He was uncharacteristically distraught, an implacable inner drive demanding a flawless execution of necessary preparations. Libby had barricaded herself in her bathroom due to his unpredictable behavior. Cindy, most likely unaware of Jimmy's drive to keep her night running smoothly, had last been seen applying blush and blessedly did not hear her best friend yell through her locked door, "Just go make out with her and get it over with, 'cuz I'm sick of getting the nasty backlash of your obsession!"

There were good reasons behind his desire for perfection, as Libby so cleverly pointed out, but he was not in the least willing to admit any of them. As his not-so-ingenious cover-up plan was painfully transparent, he tried to give it up and told himself to keep his cool. When he began to brush his teeth for the fourth time that evening, he again knew he wasn't succeeding. After spitting out the foamy toothpaste and locking the door to his bathroom to avoid any more stress-induced grooming, he stopped in Cindy's doorway once more to check up on her. She was still sweeping the now blush-free brush across her right cheek, unfocused eyes not even watching her reflection's movement.

He took a tentative step in.

"Cindy?"

She didn't respond, but continued to make the motions of applying rouge.

"Cin?"

He was now standing behind her, apparently unnoticed. Very cautiously, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

Startled at the contact, Cindy jumped and dropped her brush. She looked up at Jimmy briefly before scrambling off her chair, making a great show of retrieving the fallen tool, proving once more the dramatic abilities behind the award she was nominated to win later in the evening.

"Cin, are you okay?" Jimmy asked, watching her emerge from beneath her vanity table with great concern. "Why aren't you running around in a panic, yelling at everyone and beating up Sheen for eating the caviar?"

Cindy made no verbal signs she had heard Jimmy. She climbed to her feet, her movements stiff due to the hampering evening gown she was decked out in, emerald eyes rather wide. She dropped the applicator brush onto her vanity tabletop and rubbed her freed hands together vigorously, as though warming herself, her sight still unfocused. Jimmy was fearful for his safety, but he waved a hand in front of Cindy's vacant face to try to draw out some sort of confutation.

"Jimmy," she breathed, eyes snapping from a random spot beyond Jimmy's shoulder to the genius's face almost instantaneously as though just noticing him properly. Her voice was at a near whimper. "I'm going to throw up."

Jimmy was startled by her sudden return to reality – and the effects it had apparently given her.

"Don't," he advised automatically, scrambling to find valid words, as running through the hotel enough times to amount to a full marathon, barking out orders and searching for a sense of organization, had run him dry of both intelligent and contributive things to say.

"Um… may I ask why?" he tried tentatively.

He had though it wouldn't have been possible, but Cindy's eyes expanded even further and she wrung her hands together. Her voice cracked, instituting she was near tears.

"Jimmy, I can't do this!"

Jimmy was aghast.

"Cindy!" he cried, his incredulity melding with an insulted sentiment, "I didn't refuse the chance to lead a seminar and fly all the way out from Paris to see you regurgitate your lunch before missing out on your own awarding ceremony! What have you been messing with in my lab? Because nothing but a serious head injury could possibly induce this."

Cindy shook her head violently and began to wring the skin from her hands again. "No no no no! All that effort – I'm going to be shut down again, I know it!"

Had his patience not already been spent farther than his banks could hold, Jimmy might have been a bit more sympathetic with Cindy and her nervous – and irrational – break-down. Rolling his eyes heavenward and mustering up all lingering pathos from inner reserves, he said, "Cindy, you are being _completely _irrational! Have you even _seen_ yourself on the screen? There isn't a chance of you losing this."

Cindy was unmoved at this assertion. Jimmy buried his face in his palms, digging his nails into his skin in frustration at his long-time friend's poorly-timed character lapse. He desperately dragged his hands away, nails leaving behind thin red lines at the point of contact.

_Gas planets,_ he thought as he watched Cindy's chin and lower lip tremble involuntary in sheer terror of the night to come and what it might – or might not – hold. _And I gave up discussing relative theory for this?_

He bit his lip, certain he would not have the strength to handle a full-on crying paroxysm from the young woman before him. He prayed to every known God that she could contain herself, though he did feel a pang of empathy for her.

He was suddenly – blessedly – struck with an idea.

"Hit me."

Cindy looked up, confused.

"What?"

"Hit me," Jimmy repeated, spreading his arms wide and anxiously hoping it would penetrate her rapidly rising emotion levels. "Punch me, hit me, come on!"

He knew the look Cindy was staring him down with all too well, but it was a progression. He would take you-are-an-absolute-idiot over I'm-going-to-hurl-on-your-tuxedo-from-stress any day.

"How the heck is that supposed to help?" she asked, raising an eyebrow precariously.

Jimmy faltered, dropping his arms in the confronted lack of reasoning he had behind his odd request. "Well…I don't know. Why did it make you feel better when we were kids?"

Cindy continued to stare.

"Jimmy, I'm 27 years old. I haven't taken such an immature course of venting for –"

"Sixteen months, I know," Jimmy cut in sardonically. "Yeah, I saw you pound that guy you were dating – what was his name, Rick? – when he tried to grab your ass under the mistletoe Christmas before last." He turned his side to her, putting his right arm in a perfect position for a whack. "Come on, then, give me your worst."

Cindy captured her bottom lip between a perfect set of pearly white teeth, but a smile still prevailed, the layer of coloured gloss that coated her lips shimmering in the dim, yellowed light of the room. Putting on a mock grimace, she glared up playfully at him, pulled back her arm, and complied with his offer.

Jimmy desperately tried to not let the entire right side of his body to collapse to the ground as a sharp pang went through the entire of his upper limb. He was not sure if Cindy had intentionally hit him dead-on his core nerve, but either way he was not going to show signs of weakness. He bit back a grimace of pain and blinked rapidly, clearing away tears that had sprung up on their own as he said strainedly, "Tha-that was… pretty good for a wimpy Best Actress. Meet you in the sitting room?"

Cindy grinned, even allowing a small giggle. With a light-hearted "'Kay," she gathered up the chiffon and silk folds of her bejeweled dress with one hand and gave Jimmy's chest an appreciative pat with the other as she skipped out of the room. The poor genius punching bag waited until her heeled, strappy shoes clicked half-way down the hallway before growling in agony and shaking the deadened limb. After he regained feeling in his fingertips, he retrieved his coattails from his bedroom and made his way to the main sitting area of the suite. The things he would do…

"Libby, come on, it can't be that bad."

Jimmy paused as the calm, cajoling voice of Cindy drifted lazily from the room Libby and her husband were sharing. When an angry sounding Libby shouted from the small adjoining bathroom "Yes it is!", Jimmy entered with the worst fears at heart.

"_Now _what's up?" he asked Sheen, who was waiting impatiently on the down-filled bed – gangly limbs sprawled across the sides – set up against the wall farthest from the bathroom Libby repudiated to leave. Sheen sighed heavily.

"I'm not sure," he said dramatically, "but marriage has taught me not to enquire as to the specifics of women/bathroom conflicts."

Jimmy groaned, discarding his jacket atop his friend before marching over to the heavy walnut door, fury rising at the inability his friends seemed to possess at keeping a sense of prioritized order. Cindy had her side pressed up against the door and was still trying to speak to Libby through the hinge crack. Jimmy leaned an arm against the jamb and – when he tilted his ear toward the thick, solid wood – could hear random, furious curses issuing from the other side.

"Libs, you're making it sound like he threw you in the pool," Cindy tried to reason, resting one hand against Jimmy's chest for leverage as she inclined her head closer to the thin gap. Jimmy hoped she could not feel the sharp increase his heart-rate took.

"He might as well have!" the muffled voice of Mrs. Estevez snapped back, followed shortly by a click and the whirring of what sounded like a hair dryer. Jimmy opened his mouth to make an inquiry, but Cindy seemed to have read his thoughts and spoke before he had a chance.

"From what I can make out through the profanity, Carl tripped over… well, nothing I'm sure, knowing Carl, and got a good spot of Libby's dress soaked." She sighed. With the hand that was not still pressed up against Jimmy, leaving him with difficulties breathing, she rapped on the door. "Come _on_, Libs! It's only club soda! You're going to make me late for _club soda!_"

Impatiently and much more like the regular Cindy, the blonde's eyes flickered upward in irritation. Jimmy was still hovering directly above, (as her slight touch had rendered him to the state of a complete invalid,) so her emerald orbs locked with his own sapphire ones.

It had been an incalculable amount of time since he had been in such close quarters with her, making the visual connection an incredibly sensual jolt. The lacquer of shadow, liner, and mascara amplified the intensity of their already-vibrant colour, drawing Jimmy in until he felt he could drown. He forgot to breathe even subconsciously, so intoxicating was her presence. He tried to draw air into his aching chest, to siphon sustenance from it, but her tantalizing scent clouded any oxygen that had found a place between them. It was a delicious substitute; he could feel it seeping through his body, clogging his senses, and giving him a rather fuzzy, warm feeling.

All within a span of perhaps two and a quarter seconds. Unaware of the drug-like affect she had on him, Cindy asked curiously as she opened her small silver clutch, "When are the limos supposed to get here, anyways?"

Sluggishly, like moving though a dream, (which wouldn't have been too far off, as he had only been able to dream about being so near her again over the years,) he lifted his watch into his range of vision. Speaking loudly so Libby might also hear – above her cursing, blow dryer, and all – he announced, "We need to leave… five minutes ago. Carl! Where are you, I'll kill you!"

In the four minute break he took from running himself ragged to assuage Cindy, as close to Hell as they could come had broken free.

Cindy made a tsking noise at him with her tongue, shaking her head as she withdrew a small item from her handbag. A hard candy, it appeared to be. As she removed the cellophane wrapping, she chided Jimmy, "What happened to all that self-assured convincing to keep a level head about things, eh?" She smirked up at him, slipping the bright red candy between her lips and into her mouth. Jimmy thought he was going to die of heart failure when the tip of her pink tongue stuck out to lick away the sticky residue it had left on her glossed lips.

"Jolly Rancher?" she offered, obviously misreading him, stretching out the bag in her hands.

"What?" Jimmy looked down and saw to his surprise about a dozen more of the small, enticing candies scattered in with the jewelry she had yet to put on. He swallowed and, to avoid the high possibility of his voice cracking, merely shook his head in refusal. Cindy shrugged and snapped the bag shut. As though the soft _cwop!_ was a cue, Libby's phonation came barreling through once more.

"And I _hate my HAIR!_"

Sheen groaned loudly from the bed, startling Jimmy, who had forgotten his presence entirely. The Hispanic rolled over, forgetting to put out his leg as a brace, and dropped the four feet to the ground with a thump and an "Ow!"

Standing and rolling his eyes at the door blockading the way between him and his furious wife, Sheen said, "You guys might as well go now. We'll catch up after I find Carl. Hopefully Libby will have yanked all her hair out by then and solved the issue with it." He marched out into the corridor, throwing Jimmy's pristinely pressed jacket in his direction as he passed.

Cindy agreed with an exasperated sigh. She bent down and unclasped her silver shoes, specially made for the evening's events to match her pocketbook. She set them and her bag in the crook of her arm after she had gathered up the dragging hem of her dress again. After one more sigh at the growling bathroom door, she grinned up at Jimmy again. With the additional two inches of shoe removed, she had more than half a foot difference to grin cheekily through, but she managed quite well. Unexpectedly, she said, "Race you? Ready-set-_go!_"

Still feeling highly disoriented by the small candy episode, Jimmy didn't realize right off he had been challenged. Cindy had nearly reached the stairs before he caught up with her. Not wanting to reach the limousine first and feel extremely stupid waiting for its main-intended guest to arrive, Jimmy matched his opponent's pace the whole way down and burst through the main lobby doors and into the chill evening just a step behind her. Laughing at the sight they made, Cindy slid and bounced through the limousine door held open for her and into the seat. Jimmy followed in a bit more graceful of a manner.

"Spoil sport," Cindy reprimanded him. She bent down as the vehicle pulled away from the hotel entrance to re-strap on her shoes. Jimmy thought this was an incredibly accomplishment in her current attire.

She looked stunning, that was not to be overlooked, but Jimmy couldn't imagine for the life of him how she was able to breathe. The goddess-inspired ruffle flowing down the front of her gown, topped by a sewn-in diamond pin in the middle of her chest, and the ruched chiffon over-lay were highly deceiving of the tight, almost corset-like bodice beneath. (Jimmy only knew of this construction from the cries of disgust coming from Cindy as she put it on.) Yards and yards of icy lavender silk composed the solid under-layer and shone through the translucent pale-pink coverlet in different patches of colour intensity, giving it an appearance of constant, water-like flowing when she walked or moved. It was a breathtaking ensemble, finished with a pink cord beginning and ending at the diamond pin, tied around her neck halter-style.

Her messy waves had been lifted from her bare shoulders and pinned back elegantly. Through the hundreds of hairpins, half-gallon of hairspray, and many highlights ranging from champagne blonde to chestnut, he could almost see the natural honey-coloured locks he had fallen in love with years back. Immaculately applied cosmetics finished off her outfitting and left her virtually flawless. (Before her nervous collapse, she had even mercilessly teased him into a deep blush that her lip gloss was the same type used during a certain trip to Mars more than a decade previously.)

It was curiously ironic that the emotions he had vainly hoped to be dying were brought to a peak at the elegant additions to Cindy's appearance -- the first definite moment when she had switched from being the bane of his existence to his secret obsession had been while she was decked out in a plain pink button-up shirt and high pigtails.

He did his best to not stare as Cindy untangled and fastened on the jewelry in her purse, but the clipping and snapping was too enticing an excuse to look. He silently watched as she flicked the latch closed on a wide silver bracelet before jiggling her wrist, settling it and two thinner chains at the top of her hand. Chandelier earrings were slid carefully through her single piercing, pearly beads and bright silver trimming dancing in the light. Smiling girlishly, Cindy shook her head back and forth, purposefully jangling them musically.

Jimmy smiled weakly and tried to speak, an attempt to break his own disquietude and breach the wall of silence he had set against her, but he still sounded terribly strained when he finally forced out the words.

"Feeling better, then?"

Cindy smiled back, transferring the bright red Jolly Rancher from one cheek to the other.

"I hope you can forgive me for my lapse into idiocy."

"I dunno," Jimmy rasped, his breaths coming short once more as he watched the candy's transit. "Seventeen years is a long time to exculpate."

"Oh, ha ha," she scowled, resolutely sucking on her Jolly Rancher before responding. (Jimmy eyes slid in and out of focus as he continued to watch it.) "I'm surprised you showed up this time. No laws to trample or scientific barriers to shatter?"

"Third time's the charm, I guess," he gasped, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, searching for anything to retain his attentions besides that damned candy.

Cindy chuckled in remembrance. "You should have seen the look on Libby's face when she told me you were in a hospital last time. Thought I didn't expect some sort of accident from you during an important event."

"I really am sorry about that," Jimmy said remorsefully, fatefully turning toward her again. He agonizingly watched Cindy lick away the sticky sweet residue in the corner of her mouth as he went on, "I lost track of time; I rushed the containment stage, and my lab couldn't handle the radiation levels –"

Cindy shook her head. "I don't care any more. It's not like you missed anything—"

_Yes I did,_ he thought dolefully, vaguely wondering if she had stowed away a package of hard candies during that nomination as well.

"—and not even _you_ can defer a Noble Prize awarding." She looked up at him with admiration. "I'm sorry _I_ missed_ that_, actually. You've made so much of yourself; I almost regret throwing away science for this."

Jimmy frowned. "You didn't throw it away. This is what you love and are best at… and I highly doubt it was acting that taught you how to hot-wire a car in seventeen seconds flat."

She grinned brightly, cherry candy sliding across her back molars with soft clicks.

"All thanks to the love of science, and I still beat your record, if I'm not mistaken…?"

Jimmy nodded silently, vocal chords and facial muscles once again failing to respond.

"Thank you for being here now, though," she said, eyes filled with sincerity as she looked up at him with a softened smile. "I'm so glad you came. Really, I am. You're such a good friend, and it means the world to me."

Good friend. And that was the extent of issues, Jimmy was certain, due to the painfully casual way she spoke to him, teased him, laughed around him, touched him. Even if at one point she had felt ardently toward him, she did not now and most certainly wouldn't again unless some form of divine intervention took place.

All of which made his next course of action all the more ridiculously irrational.

Unable to restrain his emotions any longer, averse to continue his façade, not willing to lie to himself a moment more, too drawn by that ridiculous little candy, he lunged across the stretch of seat between them, cupping his hands around the back of her neck, pulling her toward him, and capturing her soft lips with his own.

There were many philosophies that opinionated the postponement of pleasures made them all the more enticing when they were finally divulged in. When based on this hypothesis, kissing Cindy should have been the greatest moment in his life, thrilling and exhilarative enough to have perhaps knocked him dead. He had drawn his own conclusion to this theory upon contact, though: it was complete bogus.

If he had known kissing Cindy Vortex was going to be as sensational as it was, as electrifying as it felt, as emotionally satisfying as _this,_ he would have worked up the nerve to do it a decade ago. He felt completely infuriated he had cheated himself of this moment; what would this be like when she had actually liked him back?

Fie upon the idea of holding back. The explosion of senses, the adrenaline rush, the delicious little whimper she gave when he nipped at her lower lip -- these details couldn't possibly deteriorate or increase in allurement with constant action or suspension of indulgence. If Cindy didn't kill him for this, Jimmy would have to make a note to tell his future children to just jump their childhood sweethearts and eliminate the possibility of wasted time.

It was with incredible disappointment that Jimmy detached himself. The limo had slowly rolled to a stop. Eyes still closed, he sighed heavily. It was such an enormous relief to have settled out his feelings and finally express them. All in one go, too!

He sat back and was amused to see Cindy had also kept her eyes shut. Her mouth was even slightly open. Shock setting in a moment later, her eyelids flittered open and disconcerted eyes peered at him, inquisitorially it seemed.

Jimmy unwittingly licked his lips in reverence of the kiss. Something rubbed against the roof of his mouth.

Surprised, he removed the remaining bit of Jolly Rancher from his mouth. He held it out to Cindy on the tip of his finger, but she merely looked at it with absolute perplexity. Shrugging nonchalantly, Jimmy put it back in his own mouth and opened the limousine door, stepping out into the bright flashes of cameras and holding out a hand to assist Cindy in her exit.

* * *

Brittany's ending, just 'cuz it was so incredibly amazing when I asked for her suggestion in my time of need, chosen where to insert by the individual reader:

Jimmy and Cindy continue to make out.

The End.

* * *

A/N: For some bizarre, unknown, and twisted reason, my Muse often stops by when I'm doing my make-up in the morning. Not an ideal time to stop and write something, obviously, so I spent a very boring afternoon a while back trying on every cosmetic I own, hoping that an idea that hit before school would come back. And what do you know, one did! Then it wouldn't leave me alone. It's not my favorite bit of work, but I just HAD to write it. (Literally. I couldn't sleep.) Anyways… that was it. Not a whole lot to get worked up about, but there nonetheless. Review?


	3. Love, In So Many Words

For what felt like the hundredth time, Jimmy sighed heavily, rustling the leaves on the branch he was sitting on. A small caterpillar popped over the top of a knot and inched its way along the tree limb and away from Jimmy. Jimmy watched it with mild interest for a moment, but then settled against the thick trunk of the oak and back into his morbid and bitter thoughts.

_Go on, then, _he told the furry caterpillar silently. _Everyone else seems to be mad at what I do as well. _

And it was true. Even when things weren't his fault, people acrimoniously told him off. He didn't even get a chance to defend himself when he was point-blank accused of setting one of the high school labs on fire the other day! (He had, of course, been the offender in that instance, but he was never able to properly explain he had just been trying to fix a small fuel leak in his jet-pack backpack, and the only reason it had been detonated was because some certain _girl_ – some infuriating girl who _still_ wouldn't admit his intellectual superiority, who wouldn't let him go one day without a degradation of some sort, who still _insisted_ it had been all Jimmy's fault, who _still _could not buy pants the proper length – decided to put her Bunsen burner right next to him!)

Good grief, how he loathed her.

But then there were those…_moments_. (Even Jimmy was at a loss for words and couldn't describe them as anything else.) They were moments when Jimmy felt so confused, as though his genius I.Q. was slowly diminishing into nothing, leaving him a bewildered puddle of mush. They happened at such seemingly random times and for reasons he either did not know or was afraid to admit. Like just last week, when Cindy had actually _complimented him_ in chemistry and peered around his shoulder to look at his skillfully completed lab assignment, he had been so distracted by the hand that was lightly holding his upper arm, he had only been able to give a very unintelligent, "Ohuuuhnn…" Even with all the collective pranks Cindy and Libby had pulled on him in the past, it was hard to find a memory where he had been more embarrassed.

Then, the more he thought about it, the more he wondered why he had been so humiliated. It was Cindy, for crying out loud! The fact that she had reduced him to the same state as a drool monkey was infuriating enough, but now he was reduced to sitting in a tree, doing everything in his power to avoid running into her again. Because maybe, perhaps, if he didn't see her, these unsettling feelings would finally sort themselves out and he could have a moment's peace.

"Hey, Jim!"

Jimmy looked down and saw Carl standing at the foot of the tree, looking up and waving. Jimmy waved back as Carl started to climb up and said, "Hey Carl." He grabbed his paunchy friend by the collar of his shirt and hoisted him up the rest of the way.

"What are you doing up here?" Carl asked, adjusting the thick-framed glasses on his face.

"Hiding," Jimmy supplied, snapping a twig off the branch he was sitting on and spearing a leaf upon the end. "Though I suppose it's doing me no good, because it's my own self and my inexplicable feelings that are setting off most of my primitive 'fight or flight' instincts. You can see how this tree holds no protection from _that…_"

Carl looked nervous. "Yeeaah, okay, are you going to start asking me any confusing questions, because my doctor says he can't raise my medication dosage for my anxiety fits any higher!"

"No, Carl," Jimmy said, patting him on the shoulder reassuringly. Carl sought out more comfort from his inhaler. Jimmy turned his attention back to the street in front of him when he heard voices approaching and could just see through a leafy veil Sheen, Libby, and – his stomach clenched – Cindy stop in front of the latter's house.

"My Libbilicious Queen!" he heard Sheen saying, (which wasn't all that hard considering the volumes his grating voice could reach,) "I thank you for the honor of escorting you and your most esteemed friend to the Candy Bar, and I hope to be graced by both your presences again very soon!"

Both girls giggled and chorused, "Thank you, Sheen!"

Jimmy's chest leapt. As if her voice were the final piece to a puzzle, the swirling turmoil of emotions within him finally clicked _something_ into place. Suddenly very determined and decisive, he vaulted himself out of the tree and sprinted across his yard as soon as his feet touched the ground, ignoring Carl's wondering call of "Jimmy, what's wrong?" He dashed across the empty street and skidded to a halt in front of Cindy, breathing hard.

"Hey Cindy!" he gasped, grinning broadly. His instincts were screaming at him to leave while he still had some of his dignity left, but his insides were still soaring and kept him firmly rooted to the spot. His mind had been made up, though by what he still wasn't quite certain.

"Neutron," Cindy said, almost questioningly. She looked him up and down with an air of suspicion. "What do _you_ want?"

Jimmy continued to grin stupidly and stare aptly down at her while he answered, "Nothing, really, just wanted to get a few things out in the open."

Cindy was beginning to look a bit apprehensive, though she continued to sneer through their eight inches of height difference up at him. "Oh really? Like what?"

"Oh, where to begin," he said jovially. "At first I thought it was just some incredibly ridiculous case of hormones – but then, we've known each other for ten years, right?"

"Oh, look," Cindy said bitterly, already not liking the conversation Jimmy had situated her in. "The genius has learned to count."

Jimmy's smile only widened and he nodded. "And yet I can't count the number of times I've wanted to tell you but have been too cowardly, or too stubborn, or not even aware of it! For a genius, I sure have been dense."

"As I've told you many times over the last decade," Cindy said venomously, hands on her hips.

Jimmy nodded again. "That you have! But back to my point. Doing the math, back then I wouldn't have even known what hormones _were_, so this was some _other_ sick form of nature."

"I'm beginning to think that, once again, you have nothing intelligent to say," Cindy sighed, looking like she would very much like to punch Jimmy.

"Probably not, because just the idea is ludicrous!" Jimmy paced in front of a her, a few steps to either side. "And the possibility of me expressing it through words is about as likely as Sheen passing school the first time through –"

"Hey!"

" – but _c'est la vie_."

"Neutron, just_ what_ are you babbling on about?" Cindy's anger – though not abating any – was now accompanied by full-blown confusion.

Without further ado or stalling, Jimmy leapt forward, put his hands on both sides of her face, and solidly connected his lips with hers in a smothering kiss.

Libby's jaw hit the ground. Carl needed to take several more calming puffs of his inhaler. Sheen just stood there, at loss for words for the first time in his life.

It was after a few excruciating seconds that Jimmy broke his contact with Cindy. He did a dance, skip, and a hop around her and shot off down the street, running as though Death were pursuing him. Fate was with him, though, because Cindy didn't regain control of her senses for another short moment, giving him a sizable head start. Once she came to, though, she wasted no time in sprinting after him, shouting, "Neutron, I'm going to pulverize you within an inch of your life!"

Carl had managed to scramble out of the tree and walked over to his pair friends, all three of them too dumbfounded for words. As they watched the two rapidly disappearing backs of their unstable friends, abjectly wondering who would be next to snap, Sheen found his voice.

"What, in the mighty name of Ultra Lord, was _that_?"

Carl was wheezing and clutching at his chest. Libby shaking her head, answered.

"Just a couple of idiotic teens who don't know how to properly say 'I love you'." She affectionately stood on tip-toe and kissed Sheen on the cheek. "I'm just glad you're not that immature…"

* * *

A/N: The first few paragraphs of this was a post sample I wrote for Halfa-Goddess and her AMAZING site. Unable to contain my inner fan-girl, I continued on and this came out. It's pretty short, and I felt it deteriorated a bit, and will most likely be torn apart and redone at a later date in time.


	4. The Tale of the Evil Tampon

A/N: I must tell you now, before the wrath of Allison is upon me, that this is not my story! Even in my wildest dreams I could not come up with something this hysterically outrageous. No, I am simply Miss Halfa-Goddess's inquisitive prompter who insisted that, one way or another, this delicious little tidbit make its way onto FF. Since she has done an excelent job of getting herself grounded from the internet, I am posting this one-shot temporarily under my user name; I just can't let you people live another day without this story! (You will know why in about three minutes.)

Andnow, with just a bit more ado from Halfa-Goddess herself, for your pure, unadulterated pleasure, our main event….

* * *

_**The Tale of the Evil Tampon (also known as "The Horrors of Cindy's Purse")**_

So I decided to write a tidbit on the tampon idea, motivated by a dear friend of mine. So, for better or worse, Shandon, this one's for you.

---

"Jimmy, what is it?"

"It looks evil..."

"Shh, guys, shh!"

Jimmy, Sheen, and Carl bent cautiously over the Plexiglas dome, eyes wide and slightly curious as they examined the contents. Automatic probes poked, prodded, and analyzed the item carefully within the enclosure as the trio watched, obviously intrigued. Perhaps, had Jimmy not been _Jimmy_, they would have left it alone, but analyzation and identification had been mandatory, because he certainly _was_ himself.

"Jim," said Carl timidly, "I don't think Cindy will be too happy that you went through her purse..."

Jimmy sighed, looking up briefly from his work to stare hopelessly sat his friend. "Please understand, Carl, that I am not the one at fault. _She_ put the purse on my workbench. _She_ left it here... I would not have knocked it over had it not been there." he replied monotonously as he glanced at the impending computer readings. He would have been more anxious, had it not been simply a random, unidentified object from his girlfriend's purse. Certainly this fact made the find a bit less intriguing, if it was in a woman's handbag, it _had_ to be a cosmetic of some kind. If it wasn't for his prying friends...

The computer beeped persistently at them and Jimmy swiveled slightly in his chair to look fully at the screen. "Results, VOX?"

"Readings are as follows." VOX proceeded without delay, "Object in question confirmed as Tampax tampon, slender regular."

Sheen gasped dramatically and stumbled backward, while Carl cowered behind his chair. "So _that's_ what they look like..." the Hispanic boy murmured in wonder, eyes wide in his head.

"I told you it was evil!" Carl yelled, clutching the back of the chair for dear life.

Jimmy rose and stepped toward the dome, tapping the top cautiously with his pen, as if it would shatter at any moment. He should have known. Alas, his life goal of staying away from feminine products of all kinds was now gone.

Slowly, the other two emerged from their hiding spots, and the three twelve-year-olds were once again crowded around their discover. "Think what mystical, magical powers it must hold..." Sheen whispered in awe.

"One would be surprised at what dark things a woman's purse contains." Jimmy replied, also in a low tone.

There was a brief moment's pause before Carl added, "Eviiiiil..."

"_What_ are you guys _doing_?" a shrill voice from behind them demanded, and the trio turned around, making sure to hide their analysis subject behind them. Cindy Vortex stood before them at the doorway, frowning suspiciously at their guilty faces.

"Nothing, nothing at all!" Jimmy insisted hurriedly, stumbling over his words as he put on a _very_ false smile. "How'd you get in here?"

Cindy rolled her eyes at him. "You left the door _wide_ open, Brainzilla." she replied smugly. "Where's my purse!"

"Right... here." he answered nervously, brandishing the item in his right hand. He stepped forward, and Sheen and Carl shuffled sideways to fill the gap the boy had left.

"Thanks." she said, snatching it from him and slinging it over her shoulder. She looked nearly amiable for a moment... until her eyes shifted to her boyfriend's friends behind him. Her face fell drastically into a frown as she looked skeptically at them. "What are you hiding?" she demanded suddenly. All three boys grimaced nervously.

"Nothing!" Jimmy protested again, shaking his head insistently, an act to which Cindy replied by rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, right." she said sarcastically. "Move." They didn't need to be told twice; Sheen and Carl scattered to either side, fear very obvious on their faces. Since when had they _not_ been afraid of her?

It took a simple moment of observation for her to come to a conclusion, at which point she turned slowly on her heel to face Jimmy. "You little twerp!" she snarled. "You went through my purse!"

"Umm, no... no! It fell over... and everything fell out and... do you want it back!" Jimmy exclaimed, tapping his foot skittishly.

She stood for a moment, chewing her gum thoughtfully as she sized him up, searching for the right words. She stepped up to him, glancing up the two inches to look him in the eye before she replied, "No, it's fine. You go ahead and keep it. Who knows? You might need it one of these days." She tapped his cheek gently with her hand a few times before backing up a step to smirk at his glower.

"Psh," was all he could think of to reply as his eyes traveled from his girlfriend to his friends, who were "inconspicuously" leaving the room. He chose not to acknowledge it, though, as Cindy had settled herself on the couch in the corner.

He sat himself next to her, twiddling his thumbs in his lap as he slumped over, thinking. Finally he spoke, quite timidly at that. "Sorry I went through your purse." he muttered.

Cindy looked over at him, grinning slyly. "I know. I just hope you've learned something... for once." Before he could protest, though, she leaned over, taking his hand and kissing his cheek gently.

Jimmy couldn't bring himself to argue.


	5. Merry Christmas with Love, Jerk!

The scene that lay sleepily was so picturesque it seemed impossible to be real. It was as though a page of a child's story book had replaced the dormant street in Retroville. The gingerbread-like houses were trimmed in colorful lights, evergreen wreaths, and bright red holly berries. Through windowpanes decorated with Jack Frost's artistic touch, lit and decorated Christmas trees shone cheerily, some with brightly wrapped presents already nestled safely beneath. Fat little Santa Clauses and plastic reindeer illuminated snow-covered rooftops and buried yards. A fresh powder had recently fallen, leaving a thick smothering blanket over the dream.

There was one home in particular on this fairytale-like street that seemed to buzz with an additional measure of holiday activity. Silhouetted bodies scurried about, moving boxes and packages, decorating rooms, wrapping gifts, and, if one listened closely, Christmas music could be heard playing softly beneath all the infuriated shouts and quibbling.

"Marie, stop it now! Put that box down, it has the glass orn – NOT on your brother!!"

"Elli, no one wants your stinking picture on the top!"

"I's mine! I c'n put it where I _want!_"

"Ben, don't touch those, you'll cut yourse – BEN! _NO!_ Give those to Mommy, now… NOW -- Jimmy, grab your child!"

"Dad, Marie just poked me in the eye with a box!"

"_My_ child?! I do believe you are responsible for fifty percent of that collaboration. Ben, stop that before – OUCH!"

"Mommy, tell Elli to stop putting her silly ornament right next to the star!"

"I said i's _mine_. _I_ made it, and I c'n put it there!"

"I – _ow_, Ben, go back to Daddy! – ooh, goodness, Elli, how about we put it here?"

"Hey, give that back! That's _my _stocking, doofus, unless you suddenly spell your name A-L-E-X!"

"Alex, cut the name calling. Cindy, what did you do with the lights I just had?"

"I didn't touch them, doofus! Find them yourself; I'm in the middle of an ornament placement crisis, as it is!"

"Mommy, tell Annie ta stop touching my stuff!"

"OUCH, Marie! Watch where you're goin'!"

"I _did!_ _You _were the one that fell over_ me_!"

"Waah, Elli! You just ripped _mine!_"

Jimmy collapsed on the nearest sofa, the family interaction and holiday spirit not-so-suddenly overbearing on him. He was forced to spring back up instantly, though, as it was the location Marie had employed to hold the box of the yet-unbroken glass orbs still in need of a branch. Ergo, he chose to take his breather standing up instead, envisioning the extent of the battle the nearly-squashed ornaments would cause when it became their turn to be hung among the many macaroni- and paste-covered adornments that already weighted down the tree.

"Dad?"

Jimmy looked down, exhaustion and the distracting wails still coming from a distraught Annie making it difficult to identify the child that had pulled on his shirt tail. He replied with a gender-indefinite, "Yeah?"

Alex, his eldest, pointed into an indeterminable portion of the melee and said, "I just thought you'd like to know Marie got her snowman ornament caught on your stocking and ripped it. She stabbed herself in the forehead, too, but Goddard's already looked at it, and she didn't get blood on the carpet this time."

Exasperated, Jimmy cried, "How on earth does seven-year-old manage to cause mayhem with a _popsicle stick_?"

Alex shrugged, hands shoved into his pockets in apparent apathy toward his father's plight. "I dunno. How does a two-year-old manage to find the one box with a sentimental and breakable heirloom in it?"

Suddenly remembering his youngest child still had an incredibly firm hold on the worn box that held said heirloom, Jimmy jumped in panic and dug his way through a roll of crumpled wrapping paper that had been taken off its cardboard tube – courtesy an unknown child – in search of Ben. But it was too little, too late.

In one of those heart-stopping moments, one where you know gravity and centrifugal force had already done their work and the amount of energy it would take to get moving would not be enough to save it, where all you can do is stand and watch in horror, the box in little Benjamin's hands fell to the floor. Jimmy didn't know whether it was a mental allusion created by the anxious anticipation of the hell Cindy would bring or the oddly-placed weight of the box, but it seemed to fall in slow-motion.

Nothing was slow about his wife's reaction when it hit the floor and shattered the contents within, though.

"BEN!"

Instantly knowing his fun had crossed into dangerous boundaries that his cute blond curls and dimples could not get him out of, Ben's face fell and he waddled over to Goddard, using the mechanical canine as a shield.

_Smart kid, _Jimmy thought to himself.

"THAT WAS GRANDMUMMY'S CHRISTMAS ANGLE!" Cindy was now breathing heavily through her nostrils, all remembrance of this Christmas being the one where they would teach the children that material things were not the point of the holiday's blowing away like so many leaves in a whirlwind. "JIMMY, WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP HIM?! BEN, I TOLD YOU TIME AND_ TIME _AGAIN TO _PUT THAT BOX DOWN!!_"

She had only said his name once, and then had reverted back to the child's name: Jimmy was off the hook. Gingerly testing his uncertain freedom, he crept over to his oldest daughter, who had her mouth slightly open as she watched her mother yell herself red in the face at the patch of carpet that had been her angel's fatal landing place.

"Marie, where's the stocking you ripped?" he inquired, trying to keep his voice low as to not attract attention from his wife again.

She turned her emerald eyes toward him but did not rise from her sitting place. "You mean yours? I dunno."

"What do you mean you don't know? You just had it, you just ripped it!" He scanned the floor about her in search of the item.

"Right here," Alex interjected, handing it to Jimmy who, still stung by the fact his had been the one injured, refused to take it.

"That's not mine." He stubbornly crossed his arms.

His son was confused at this. "Yes, it is," he persisted, still holding it out expectantly, "'cuz Mom wouldn't let anyone else make theirs out of the Albert Einstein fabric."

"Well, by the parental authority vested in me, I say it's now _yours._" Jimmy stuck out his tongue and snatched away the red-and-white striped stocking with the name A-L-E-X carefully spelled out in glitter glue.

"But that's not fair!" Alex exclaimed, a look of shocked outrage flitting across his features.

"Yeah, well, neither is the law obligating one performing genetic experimentation to retain a license," Jimmy huffed, the loss of his stocking killing logic and the remaining affections he might have had for the holiday seasons.

"Mom said you were the reason that law passed," Alex stated.

"Alright, that's it!" the parental figure in question interrupted, cutting through all the noise and activity. "Everyone under the age of 32, in bed, _now!_"

Dutifully, all said persons tromped up the stairs to finishing putting on night clothes and brush their teeth, knowing from much experience the physical endangerment they would be in if their mother's orders were not complied with. Jimmy was about to follow when he was brought back sharply by Cindy snapping, "Just where do you think you are going?"

Confused, Jimmy responded timidly, "Umm… bed?"

Cindy exhaled sharply through her nose.

"And you're going to leave me with this mess?!" She furiously kicked a rumpled wad of wrapping paper into their fireplace, where it was hungrily consumed by the dying embers.

Jimmy cleared away boxes until their loveseat was once again visible. "Well, you said 'thirty-_two_'. That technically doesn't apply to me for another three months, 19 days, let alone _you_."

Cindy exhaled again. Jimmy wondered lovingly if it would actually evolve into a snort if he kept prodding at her temper. As she sullenly curled up next to him on the sofa, she huffed, "It was the first number that came to mind."

"I did wonder," Jimmy said, "since you've been complaining about it so much."

She shifted her position, elbowing him in the ribs not-so-accidentally. "Do you _have_ to keep bringing it up? 32 is not a fun-sounding number for me, alright!"

"Do you _have _to tell our children half the scientific restrictions in the world are because of my lab mishaps?" Jimmy inquired, poking her back in juvenile retaliation. "It's not that great of an image builder!"

There was a brief knock at their entry door before a snow-speckled Libby and Sheen stuck their heads through, carrying brightly-coloured parcels and their 14-month-old daughter, wrapped in blankets, in their arms. Sheen chirped, "Merry Christmas!"

Huffily, Cindy rose and stomped toward the stairs, taking care to kick Jimmy in the shin as she passed, growling, "Says who!"

Perplexed, Sheen watched her back disappear, wincing as she slammed the master bedroom door.

"What the heck is _her_ problem?" he asked.

Jimmy stood, the bruise forming just above his ankle giving a small throb, and went to greet their guests, even if a bit grumpily.

"The miraculous gift of birth has flagitious side effects," he muttered sullenly. "The one we call 'Benjamin-72C96H' broke Cindy's mom's crystal angel, though the others did help with the collective tension."

"You're now giving your side effects serial numbers?" Libby commented inquisitively, carefully transferring her sleeping child from her arms to the abandoned sofa.

"Well, I've got to do something!" Jimmy exclaimed softly, keeping his voice down as to not wake the new addition to the living room. "I can't keep track of them anymore; they keep appearing from no where! I swear we've collected a few more since two weeks ago."

"Are you sure Cindy doesn't have an ad in the paper?" Sheen prompted, crouching down to place the half-dozen odd presents they had brought beneath the fully-adorned Christmas tree. "She could be advertizing your house as a baby depot! 'Drop off your extra kids and pick up some peace of mine for a flat fee!'"

"At this point, that's the only logical explanation," Jimmy sighed, journeying into the adjoining dining area to give the Estevez child, Jadyn, a soundless environment to slumber in. "You should take your inability to have your own as an invaluable blessing."

"Dude, like you even have to tell me," Sheen snickered. "You think I'm blind?"

"It's not the eyes we worry about, Sheen," Libby called from the kitchen where she was preparing herself a large mug of hot, apple cider. "It's the brain behind them, and I _do_ thank the heavens, now, that any potential children of ours won't have the unfavorable odds of taking after their father."

Sheen sniffed haughtily at this. "All I can say to that, madam, is 'You married me!'"

"Yes, I did," she responded, emerging from the kitchen to sit beside her husband, stirring the steaming liquid in her mug with a stick of cinnamon. "And I still lie awake at night and wonder if Oleander might have been a better choice…"

Jimmy dropped his head to his arms to muffle his laughter for Jadyn's sake, but Sheen had no such priorities in mind. Outraged, he cried, "What?! You said you didn't accept his date offers!"

"_While_ we were in school," Libby clarified coolly, blowing on her cider before taking a sip. "You never said anything about our five-year reunion."

Sheen was so outraged and Libby so determinedly keeping a faultless conduct they did not notice Jimmy stand, or hear him announce he was retiring for the evening. Instead, he spoke to Jadyn as he gingerly lifted her from the couch and carried her up the stairs in correct assumption her parents would have forgotten her after their little tiff.

"The guest room is all set up, clean sheets, extra blankets, we even set up Ben's old crib for you. Just moved him onto a 'big boy's bed', you know, with those little net-things on the side so he doesn't roll off. I said they were pointless -- if he's such a big boy, the possibility of him rolling off wouldn't even be there. But you know your Aunt Cindy: 'Just in case!' I still think they're silly…"

The fight below had escalated and the angry voices of the two lovers were now ascending the stairs with Jimmy.

"Well, how was I supposed to know!"

"Maybe the fact we'd been dating for fourteen years could have given you some clues!"

"In which you'd had plenty of time! I wasn' gonna wait around and be _bored_ while you decided whether 'r not you wanted to commit!"

Jimmy carefully laid Jadyn down and tucked the corners of her fleece blankets beneath her. Smiling gently as he brushed a brown silken curl from the child's Ethiopian features, he thought about the hellish experience Christmas had turned into. Had it been this ridiculously difficult for _his_ parents to pull off? Maybe they had been smart to have only one child.

Who could possibly find Christmas spirit beneath all the squabbling? If the day itself weren't bad enough with fights breaking out every two minutes when presents were touched by hands other than the owner, the preceding weeks were terrible. Maxed-out credit cards, long lines, indecision in present choices, the impossible task of finding a parking spot -- it was surprising so many people were enamored by it. The true purpose it held was obstructed by unneeded glitz and glam. Damn commercialism.

When it came down to it, though, Jimmy quite enjoyed it, blood and sacrificed Albert-Einstein-covered stockings included; it was like a personalized TV show. (He really should have invested in that video camera years ago.) He and Cindy did their best portray the true meaning to the kids and hoped they didn't end up in a heartless business company with only profits at best interest that ripped off the average Mr. and Mrs. Smith during the holidays. Things were going considerably well heretofore.

"Merry Christmas," he whispered, leaning down to lightly kiss Jadyn's forehead before tiptoeing out and softly closing the bedroom door. It was a great relief that the child could not yet talk and was therefore unable to answer with a sarcastic retort.

* * *

A/N: It's tradition in our family to set up our Christmas tree the weekend after Thanksgiving. I was having a _grand_ old time *coughcough* when this little tidbit came to mind, unbidden, but not very hard to figure out where it wandered in from. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it, and a happy holiday to those who don't.

And, of course, the Neutron children are all named after prestigious scientists. Kudos to those time-wasters who figure out which ones.


	6. Beautiful

A/N: *pokes head out of hidey-hole* Eheh, hi there. Anybody remember me? It's been a while, so I won't be surprised if my readers have given up on me. (All two of you.) The bane of a writer's existence – Real Life – sucked me in, and it sucked me in _hard._ Add in a little Senioritis, some general laziness, and writer's block, stir, and bake at 400 degrees, and you get one hell of a long time without an update. Other fandoms poking at my fancy and diverting my attention away from Jimmy Neutron didn't help either. But I'm back! …Sort of. I don't know how long I'll stay this time. (Long enough to clean up and maybe revamp some of my posted stuff, now that I actually have a spell checker, at the very least. How in the hell could you guys even _read_ some of that crap?)

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It was a thought that would come to the mind of every woman at least once in her lifetime, regardless her age, race, intellect, or social status. And while it may seem to others – or even to themselves – vain, paranoid, or even stupid, it was of great importance and was to be dealt with with the utmost sincerity.

It was the current preoccupation of one Cindy A. Neutron, age 26. It had been summoned to the forefront of her mind against her will by the sudden news that she was 6 weeks pregnant. This was to be her first child so, despite reading numerous books on the subject, she did not know what to expect of her own body in the coming months. The many complaints her mother expressed in regards to her own experience, however, were quite daunting to hear. She was worried, and this little – well, not _quite_ so little – thought surfacing and creating even more unease was an unwelcome addition indeed.

So, there she sat in the bathroom sink, making faces at herself in the mirror – which was in need of a good cleaning, she noticed – trying to make that unwanted thought go away. But no matter which way she turned, or how she smiled, it continued to pester her. She stuck her tongue out at her reflection, then hopped off the counter. She needed a second opinion.

"Would you call me pretty?"

Jimmy, lying on their four-poster with the morning _Tribune_ sprawled out in front of him, didn't even glance up at her as he complied, "You're pretty."

"No." She leaned against the door frame with her shoulder, picking at her cuticles. "No, I mean, as a classification. Would you say I'm 'pretty'?"

Jimmy shuffled a few pages around. "Of course."

"Really?"

Pushing aside the comics, Jimmy propped himself up on his elbows. Lacing his fingers together in a sign of deep contemplation, he said somberly, "Well… 'pretty' is really more for 12-year-old girls, or a nice piece of scenery, or a cop-out way to compliment someone that isn't quite so… aesthetically pleasing."

"You mean like the way you 'complimented' Libby at the Nobel Prize awarding ceremony?" Cindy prodded with a quirked eyebrow.

"I said she looked _nice_, not_ pretty_!" Jimmy exclaimed, drawing up, affronted. "Geez – she was eight-and-a-half-months pregnant and biting everybody's heads off. I had to say _something_ polite."

Cindy chewed on a nail as she thought.

"I guess the same terms and conditions could be applied to 'cute'," she mused.

Jimmy nodded, then added, "And you use 'cute' for animals."

"Dangerous territory," she agreed. "What about 'gorgeous'?"

Tilting his head to one side, he said, "Definitely. Though I always associate that with celebrities – that gorgeous Hollywood perfection."

"Hard title to live up to."

"You can handle it," Jimmy assured her with a soft smile.

"I doubt that, given what the next few months will entail," she muttered, absently running a hand over her stomach. The motion was not lost on Jimmy, who nodded and hummed in agreement.

"'Exquisite'," Cindy presented.

"Too delicate," Jimmy shook his head. "You've killed just one too many people to be some dainty, porcelain doll type beauty, sorry."

"Mm, true. 'Dazzling'."

"All glitz and glam, no real beauty under all the make-up," Jimmy scoffed with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You're far too good for _that_ category."

Cindy tried not to look too pleased at that praise.

"'Breath-taking'?"

"Well, that's all a matter of individual opinion," Jimmy said simply. "While _I _think you look breath-taking after you've visited the dojo, cheeks all flushed and eyes bright and just so _happy_, others might simply see an over-exerted girl in need of a shower."

"You are so bizarre," Cindy dead-panned with a roll of her eyes. "Of all the things to… such a nerd."

"I thought we'd established that already," Jimmy smirked. "Does the term of endearment _Nerd_-tron ring any bells?"

"Okay, so 'breath-taking' is a little vague," Cindy went on, ignoring her husband's snark. "How about 'lovely'?"

"On the edge of condescending," Jimmy said, scrunching up one side of his face and rocking a hand back and forth. "Someone could use it sincerely, but you never know when they mean it in the same context as 'pretty' or 'cute'."

"True. 'Stunning'?"

"That one requires the instilling of the 'wow' affect. Similar to 'breath-taking', but applies to all that see." He paused, smiling fondly at Cindy. "Definitely you when you're all done up. Like at the Nobel Prize awarding ceremony. You were turning heads so fast, I'm sure some people went home with whiplash. Though I don't blame them."

"Really," Cindy mused. "I thought you hated that dress I wore."

"Why would you think that?" Jimmy frowned.

"Well, you certainly couldn't get it off me fast enough once we got home," Cindy said, face a picture of innocence, a façade that broke quickly at the mischievous smirk Jimmy sent her. She giggled to herself, still contemplating their conversation. One final thought came to mind.

"What about 'beautiful'?" she asked.

"'Beautiful'…" Jimmy repeated, rolling the word around in his mouth as he contemplated its meaning. "'Beautiful' implies something grand. It must be beautiful entirely, inside and out." He smiled at Cindy, his bright sapphire eyes filled with absolute love and adoration.

"Cindy," he murmured. "You are beautiful."

The reverence and sincerity with which he uttered those words made Cindy's heart flutter. As she stood there, unable to think of anything suitable with which to respond, she was reminded again just how deeply she loved the man before her. A hand came to her abdomen, resting above her just-conceived child, a blessing she had not fully come to appreciate until that moment. Absolute contentment settled over her, filling her from head to toe until she felt she might burst from it.

Jimmy simply smiled at her, letting the moment linger a while before his grin took on a distinctly impish quality and he commanded, "Now come over here."

Cindy began to comply, but nonetheless inquired, "Why?"

"Because I absolutely _abhor _that outfit you are wearing."


End file.
